True Origins
by Passionate Heart
Summary: When a fallen soldier sees his life flash before his eyes, he begins to wonder if he's done enough penance and if he'll finally find peace. Who will know his true story?


**One's True Origin**

**So this is in Honor of Christian Kane because today is his birthday! I took some time to try to figure out what his past was like since he has such a dark past, but no one really knows what it's about! I took the liberty to give him my own back story! I hope everyone enjoys it!**

**Disclaimer...sadly, i don't own Leverage. I wouldn't mind meeting the cast...especially Christian Kane, but for now, i'll have to survive with watching the show and reading/writing fanfics! :)**

**Enjoy!  
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-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

My name didn't start out as the name I currently go by. I used to go by the name: Micah Brightstar. This is my back story, so if I can't live to tell my children and grandchildren, at least someone knows my story. The truth of the matter is, I won't have children or grandchildren. I'll die alone…cold and alone. I know this, because in my current situation, there doesn't seem like much more hope left for me. This is the end of the road for me, I guess you can say I'm preparing to meet my Maker.

-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

I lived a very quiet life for the first few years I could remember. My father was Native American, Cherokee, and my mom was Caucasian. It wasn't until my parent's car wreck that my life had changed. My twin brother, Eliot and I were waiting for our parents to come home from the weekly grocery shopping trip they made every Tuesday that we were instead met by two police officers who explained that our parents had gotten into a bad wreck.

We were immediately taken to the hospital and found out that our mom was killed on impact and dad…well he was alive, but he lost his right arm and leg. Our dad's insurance only paid for a fake leg so he could move without a wheelchair, but he didn't get a replacement hand.

After he got out of the hospital several months later, he was a changed man. First, he got drunk on a nearly regular basis and seemed to have forgotten he had children to care for. Then, when his disability checks came in and the checks from mom's life insurance policy came, dad got even worse drunk but took it to the next level. He decided that ignoring us wasn't making the pain go away…especially since we both strongly resembled mom; it didn't help it was after her funeral that I decided to grow out my hair. In order for him to release his hurt and frustration, it took it out on both my brother and me by beating us. It started with the belt, but slowly grew to things more painful. He would hit us every night after he'd get home from the bar.

We were nearly 7 when he started beating us…and calling us worthless and pathetic. We took turns protecting each other because if only one was injured at a time, then the other could act as the doctor. We went through this for three years before I was sent to the hospital with a broken arm. Dad said I fell off my bike and landed wrong…he used that excuse to explain all my bruises, both old and new. He said I was clumsy when it came to "learning" how to ride a bike. It wasn't a month later when Eliot was sent to the hospital with a broken leg.

We covered for dad until we turned 12. It started when we were 10 though, shortly after each of us had our first, but not last, visit to the emergency room. We began making a picture diary of all our injuries with the dates on the pictures for proof. We kept our own diaries in a secret place so dad would never find it, and when we turned 12, we took our diaries to the police and explained everything that happened for the past five years. We went to the police during the school hours so dad wouldn't know, but that night the police came to our home to talk to dad and see our living situation. The nice policeman also gave my brother and me his card with his personal cell phone number so we could reach him at any time. After he'd left, dad punished the both of us. Sure, he only had one arm, but he was bigger than we were, and he had a belt. That night, dad got both of us. Eliot was the first to get punished. Eliot pushed me into our room and told me it was his turn to protect me. Looking back, I think it was my turn, but Eliot was the bigger of us and the older by 7 minutes, so when dad was only seeing red, Eliot tried to take the punishment. Either way, he took the first beating, and dad didn't go easy. He hit Eliot over and over again for nearly 2 hours. He even pistol whipped my brother. I remember the screams of agony from Eliot, and I don't think those will ever be forgotten. By the end of it, Eliot looked to be in really bad shape. He looked like he needed a doctor, but dad just left him there, curled in a pile on the floor with blood and vomit mixed around him. I went to tend to his wounds as best I could, but too quickly, dad came back with another leather belt and pulled Eliot up by his hair and wrapped the belt around his chest and onto his bedpost. Dad then lifted his hand to strike Eliot once more, but I couldn't let that happen anymore. It was my turn to be the protector, so I stood in the way and let dad hit me. This directed his rage towards me and he hit me again. The punishment continued for an hour, maybe more, maybe less, I can't be sure, but it was by this time that Eliot began to stir awake. Dad threw me against the bed, near Eliot and walked out the door leaving the both of us to deal with the pain alone.

After he left the room, we were silent until the front door opened and slammed shut. He was probably heading to the bar to drown himself before going to sleep. Within those few hours, we took the pictures, patched each other up, printed the pictures on our home computer, and made plans to slip out after dad fell asleep.

Eliot was in really bad shape. Worse than normal. He tried to joke it off, but I could tell he was having a hard time breathing. It seemed as though one of his ribs were broken, but I wouldn't be sure until I took him to the hospital. When dad finally came home, I snuck into his room and stole his cell phone from his jeans and slipped back into our room. Dad had gone straight for the shower. I called the policeman, Spencer Galloway, and told him we needed his help. We were planning to leave the house in about an hour and a half, but we had to wait until dad had fallen asleep. I told Spencer about the plans and he agreed it was best to wait for dad to pass out before leaving. He told me that Eliot and I needed to pack a backpack each with a few changes of clothes and our diaries as proof. With that, he'd be able to take dad down, especially after today's punishment.

We waited until the house had fallen to silence and we believed dad had fallen asleep (or just passed out). I called Spencer once more and told him we were on our way out. He said he had already parked half a block away, and if we could just leave the house and property, he could take us to safety. We trusted him. I looked out the window before pulling my jacket around Eliot; it had been raining since dad came home, but now it was raining even harder. Lightning danced around the sky. When we were completely ready, Eliot and I snuck out the front door; what we didn't account for was that dad had become paranoid since mom died and he started abusing us, so he put an alarm system in the house that would alert him anytime someone _left_ the house at night. Before we got off the property, he came running out with a gun in his hand and yelling at us to not take another step. Eliot yelled for Mr. Spencer, but just as we saw him in sight, I heard a crack and lightning flashed at that very moment, rain pouring like heaven had just opened its flood gates. There was silence for a split second, but then, a groan came from Eliot before he collapsed onto my back. I turned around to see what had happened, and to my horror, as lightning flashed once more, I saw blood seeping through Eliot's side, and onto my shirt. He had a weak smile as he whispered, "It was my turn to protect you."

I held him tight and collapsed to the ground, all time stopped in my mind. I ran my fingers through Eliot's hair and whispered for him to stay with me, "Please, don't go. I need you. You can't leave me now. We're finally going to safety." I kept pleading but the light in his eyes were fading. "I love you," I whispered again as I pulled him closer to me. I kissed his cheek and his forehead and whispered against his skin. He took another breath and pushed me away enough so that we were staring into each other's eyes, "Never give up, Micah. Life's a bitch, but don't give up. I'll be with you forever. We are one…one cell…one being…we split into two, but are really one. Never forget that. I'm always with you, but I can't protect you anymore. I'll tell Mama hi for you."

"Don't go, Eliot," I whimpered pathetically. "Please don't."

"It's my turn to go. I've got to make sure everything's ready for you. Love you more than anything this world could offe-" his words were cut off by his coughing as blood escaped past his lips.

I held him closer and prayed one last prayer. If we could get a second chance to live together, I'd be the best boy anyone could imagine. Just don't let me lose my brother.

"Love-you," he whispered as he pulled me close with his remaining strength and kissed my cheek. "I'll always be with you. I am you. We are one."

With that, his hand fell limp and his head fell back against my chest. He was completely bloodied but that didn't bother me. It never did. I held him and didn't let go. Even as sirens rang in the night and people came rushing to our side. Dad was taken away by Spencer and Eliot and I were taken to the hospital once more. I wouldn't let them separate the two of us, even after they declared Eliot dead.

I screamed, I yelled as they tried to pull us apart, "You can't separate us! We're one! He said so himself!"

"I'm sorry Micah, but Eliot is gone. You're brother is gone," the nurse replied in a soft voice.

"No! He's just sleeping! Go away, you'll make him wake up!" New tears trailed down my face as I held Eliot's body closer. He was becoming colder, and his lips had turned blue. Still, I wasn't ready to let him go. Not now, not ever.

It wasn't until the next day when Mr. Spencer Galloway came to visit me in the hospital that I was separated from my brother. The nice policeman said he'd watch over Eliot as I got cared for and tended to. I had two broken ribs, a broken collarbone, and a severely sprained wrist that needed tending, along with all the bumps and bruises. When I returned to my bed, I pulled Eliot under the freshly laid covers with me. He had also been cleaned up and tended to while I was gone. Still, he was cold and I wanted to warm him. Mr. Spencer said that dad had been sentenced to three lifetimes in prison without any chance at parole. He abused his two sons and ultimately killed one. He wasn't getting out of that prison alive. My heart skipped a few beats as Spencer mentioned one son had been killed. This nightmare was real. I held my brother closer, "Mr. Spencer, I don't want him to go. He's my brother. He said he'd never leave me."

"Son, he lives in you. You and Eliot were once one, and now he's back with you. He'll never leave you, but this world can be cruel and separation was bound to happen."

"We had dreams. We had plans. We wanted a ranch. We wanted to be cowboys, like Clint Eastwood. We wanted to roam the West and save some ladies and drink to our heats content. We wanted to be hard workers and we wanted to make something of our lives, put a mark to say, "The Brightstar Brothers were here!"

"You can still do that, Micah. You can make that dream come alive for the both of you."

"How?"

"By starting a new life for yourself. We'll have to put you into the system, and once you get adopted, you'll be able to start a fresh life."

"Can't you adopt me?"

"I'd love to, but in my line of work, I'd be a very unstable parent. I wouldn't be home at regular hours, and there'd be a chance I wouldn't be coming home to you. I'd hate to put you through that again. I will however, promise to visit you in your new home. How's about that?"

"Promise?"

"Promise. I'll visit you until I can't no more…or until you tell me to stop."

"Deal."

-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Eliot had been cremated, and I took the ashes to an artist who incorporated cremated ashes in his art to create unique paintings. The artist made a small photo book sized collection that could easily be carried around, with the several pictures that he painted in honor of Eliot. Many of the painting were of scenery and of horses, and there were a few of old barns, log cabins in the middle of a dense forest, and other such paintings. There was one, the very last that was a portrait of Eliot and Micah. It was a picture that had been taken by the school of the twins for their 7th grade photos. I took the booklet and thanked the painter and thanked Mr. Spencer for paying for it. Mr. Spencer then took me to the orphanage where I'd stay until I found a new home.

I was stuck in the orphanage for the remainder of that school year, which was only another 2 months. During that time, Mr. Spencer came and visited everyday for at least an hour. He acted as my counselor because there was no way in hell I'd talk to anyone else. I really did hold true to that. For those two months, I stopped talking to everyone other than Mr. Spencer. Since I entered the orphanage, there was no real need to talk…at least not in my mind.

"I have some good news for you son," Spencer said as he handed me a caramelized green apple.

"And what's that?"

"There's a family that wants to foster you for awhile. They said if it goes well, they'll adopt you after the term."

"Where're they at?"

"They're in Kentucky. They own their own piece of land, I'm sure if you talk to them, they'd let you get a horse or two of your own. There are few neighbors around, so it's not a busy place, and the neighbors are very nice I hear. One of them is a man by the name of Willie Martin. His wife passed away from cancer a year ago, and he's been raising his daughter alone ever since. She's going into 8th grade, same as you. Maybe the both of you could get to know each other and be friends."

"Well, how 'bout that?" I answered skeptically in between bites. "I don't know. Kentucky's a long ways from Oklahoma. What if I never see you again?"

"I'll come during the weekends, I promise."

"Until you can't come no more?"

"Right, until something inevitable happens and I can't come _anymore._"

"Life sucks."

"Yeah, son, it does. But this is the second chance you've been looking for. They'll be here tomorrow to talk to you and see if you'll fit with the family. They're a middle-aged couple, about 37 to 40, and they want a kid. At least that's the information I've gathered. I checked their background, and they didn't have any records that were a problem. If I didn't think they were good for you, I wouldn't allow it son. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. So, will you be there too when they come meet me? Will I get to say a proper goodbye?"

"I'll sure be there son. Promise."

The family came by the next day, talked to me and seemed to be very friendly. It was a surprise they wanted someone of my age, but I played the part of being a good boy, just as Mr. Spencer had told me. Mr. Spencer did keep his promise as well. He was there before the couple showed up and helped get me all washed up and proper for the meeting. Within the hour, it was all set up. They'd be back for me during the weekend and would have all the paper work filled out. I only had one request, and that request was that when they adopted me, they'd change my name from Micah to Eliot. This they seemed to agree to with ease.

Friday evening rolled around, and it was during the time Mr. Spencer normally came by to visit. Just before bedtime. He wasn't here yet, so I paced back and forth in my little room, waiting for my mentor and friend. I'd paced for an hour before there was a phone call that was meant for me. I ran down the stairs and took the call, "Hello? Who's this?"

"This is the hospital. Micah, we've treated you on several occasions and I know you're very close with Mr. Spencer Galloway. We have terrible news. He's been shot. Three times. He's in ICU, but we don't think he'll last through the night. We'd like for you to come see him. He's awake and said he missed the meeting with you."

In a moment of shock and worry, I ran out of the orphanage and didn't stop running until I reached the hospital. Being met by the nurse that had treated me when my brother was killed, I was led him quickly to the hospital room where my friend was resting in. There were several other policemen sitting in the room, talking with Mr. Spencer, but when they saw my little form, they all shared a very sad smile. One of the other policemen gave up his seat for me and pushed it as close as possible to the bed. "Micah?" the man's voice was quiet and strained.

"I'm right here Mr. Spencer. You're gonna be ok. You gotta be. I'm leavin' soon, and you gotta send me off."

"I'm sorry son, but I don't think I can do that."

"But you promised. You said you'd visit me every weekend."

"Unless-?"

"Unless something happened," I pouted as I answered.

"That something's happened son. This is why I couldn't adopt you. I couldn't put you through this as my son…my real son."

"But, but…" tears fell from his face, and Spencer lifted his hand to wipe the tears. "Come here, lay with me." The man lifted the blankets and Micah crawled under the sheets, cuddling to the man without pushing any injuries.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I asked in a soft voice.

"Hey, Spence, we'll be heading out. We'll come by tomorrow morning."

"Thanks guys, but if I don't make it through the night, I just wanted to say ya'll were great. I'll be missin' each one of you."

"Nah man, you'll make it." With that, all the policemen exited the room, but as the last man was leaving, Mr. Spencer called out to him, "Hey, Jones, wait. There's an envelope in my jacket pocket…well, there's two of them. One goes to the man in charge and the other…that comes to me. Can you hand it over?"

"Sure boss, here you go," the man named Jones handed Mr. Spencer a plain white envelope before taking the other and turning away. "See you in the morning, boss."

"Tell me what happened. How'd you get shot?"

"Patience son. Before I tell you that story, I want you to keep this envelope. It's for you, so keep it. Open it only when I've passed on from this life to the next. Promise?"

"Promise."

Mr. Spencer took in a slow breath and coughed for a few moments before he was able to readjust himself. "Could you help me drink some water?"

"Of course, Mr. Spencer."

I helped the man drink and when he'd finished we both laid back against the pillows. "I was doing my routine patrol when I got called that there was a theft. It was in a jewelry store close to where I was, so I jumped in my car and took off after the thief."

"Was it a high-speed chase?"

"It sure felt like it son. Either way, I chased him up to the high way, where a few other police cars had set up a barrier. He had to stop, especially since there were two other cars behind me. The man had stolen nearly 6 million dollars worth of jewelry before anyone even noticed. We set up the barriers on each side and order him to set out of his vehicle with his hands up and let us search the vehicle. He came out alright, but he did so with a shot gun. He shot at me and my group first, and we shot back, but before it registered to me, there were three loud cracks and I was falling backwards against my car. Just as I was beginning to pass out, I heard Jones call out to me and ask me if I was ok, telling me to stay with them, and then speaking on his radio that a man had been hit. My eyes started to close, and I heard a final shot and Jones saying the thief was shot and dead. After that, I passed out and woke up in the ambulance getting sort of stitched up. I passed out once more and didn't wake up until you got the phone call. I'm still a little groggy, but I think I'll manage. The doctors say I won't make it through the night, and I want you here with me when I pass. It'll make it an easier trip, if you don't mind staying."

"I'll stay, but promise me you'll fight. Don't end it here. You can retire, and if you do, you can still adopt me. It won't be too late!"

"You know son, I guess I never considered that option before, retiring I mean. I'll tell you what, if I get out of here, I'll do just that. I'll retire you and adopt you as my own."

"Deal. So please get better."

"I'll try son. But at this point, I can't really promise anything. I'm so tired-" he stopped as another coughing fit attacked his body. After several moments, he was able to calm down some and hold me closer to his chest.

"How bad're the injuries?"

"Their real bad, I'm not gonna lie. They said one of my lungs have been hit through and through and another shot went through my liver. They tried to patch them both up as best they can, but the lung is having some hardships. That's not the worse part though. There's another bullet wedged in my heart that they can't get out. It's kinda a good thing though. Since they can't pull it out, I won't bleed to death. At least not for a long while."

"Well, I won't leave your side. You were there for me, and now I'm here for you."

"Thank you Micah."

"No, call me Eliot. Please, I want to hear you call me by my brother's name?"

"Why?"

"Because we are one. I'll draw my strength from him one day…and from you too."

"You don't need my strength Micah-I mean, Eliot."

"Thanks, Mr. Spencer. For everything."

"I love you son. I'll never forget you."

"I won't forget you neither."

"_Either._"

"Yeah, yeah."

The two of us kept talking throughout the night, talking of stories they've heard, Spencer talking of all the people he's caught over the years. We both spoke of our dreams and what we had planned in order to accomplish those dreams. As both of us laid in the bed, we talked and listened until it was nearly 4:00 in the morning. He was wheezing more than usual and I believed it was just because of how tired he'd become. I told him he needed rest and that we'd continue our conversation after he was woken up for breakfast. He agreed and we both settled into the bed and pillows, but just before we fell asleep, he whispered his last statement for the night, "I love you Eliot, my son. I'll never forget you. I'll be your strength when you need it, and I'll always be near you. Never forget my love."

"I love you too…more than you know," I replied with a smile.

I was awoken from my dream by 6:30 in the morning by a dead beeeeeeeeeepppppp sound and the rushing of nurses into the hospital room turning on the light and bustling around. I was pulled out of the bed by a male nurse and set on the chair as they began pushing buttons and speaking so fast, I couldn't really understand them. After about 2 minutes that seemed to take forever, a doctor called out "Clear!" just before they put a machine to Mr. Spencer's now exposed chest and shot electricity through his body making him jump off the bed. I screamed, I know I did, because in that moment, the male nurse came back to me and pulled me into a hug. "It's going to be ok, we're doing what we can." He lead me out of the room and onto a chair that was in the hallway. He went back into the room, and I heard the same doctor called out, "Clear!" again. After a few seconds, I heard the nurses say that his heart was beating again, but could falter at any moment. I took that chance…because I knew it'd be my last chance to say goodbye. I ran into the room, between all the nurses, pushed the doctor out of the way and climbed onto the bed beside Mr. Spencer, "Mr. Spencer I guess it's time for you to go. Could you do me a favor please? Could you tell my Mama and Eliot I love them? I know they're safe, and with their strength and yours, I'll be safe too. I guess you have to go…and I think now I'm ready to accept that. You're my hero, my second father…I wish I called you 'daddy' even just once. I love you…daddy."

"Son, Micah, I mean, cough, cough, Eliot. I love you too. I'll give your mom and brother the message. Stay strong. I'll be watching you."

"Thank you." I took his hand, and he squeezed it for a moment before his grip began to loosen. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, "I love you daddy."

"I love you son. Thank you for calling me, daddy. I've always wanted…a son."

"I am your son. I am…Eliot Spencer!" I hiccupped back a sob so I could be strong for him and because of him. He was my guardian angel.

Mr. Spencer squeezed my hand once more, and then he was gone. The machine made the sound beeeeeeeeppppp, and the doctor tried to pull me away, but I just held on to Mr. Spencer and repeated the phrase, "I love you daddy, I love you daddy, I love you daddy," until they pulled the plug and walked away. He was gone. There was nothing they could do for him. They knew that, I knew that, and Mr. Spencer knew that. That's why he called for me last night. So we could have a proper goodbye. I sat by the bed for hours, even as all the policemen from the squad sat near him and said their goodbyes. The chief of police came up to me and asked if I had looked at the letter. "No," I replied.

"Well, I think you should."

I opened the envelope that Mr. Spencer had given me and looked inside. There was one of his dogtags and his badge. I pulled them out and put the dogtags on, then, I pulled out the folded paper from the envelope and began reading.

_Dear Micah Brightstar,_

_If you're reading this, that means I've left this world and gone to be beside your mother and brother. I know life has been hard for you…and I'm sorry you've had to deal with life on your own for some time. It's not what I wanted for you. I'm writing this the day after you've gotten out of the hospital, April 15. You've been sent to the orphanage, and I've made some preparations for you. This is my will, this is my testament. I have no wife, no children, my parents are no longer living, I have no siblings, I have an uncle, but we aren't very close. You're the only family I have, and that's what I'm calling you. I'm calling you my official, unofficial son. _

_Now that I'm gone, my house will be sold, and you will get all my money and benefits when you turn 17. I won't say you have to finish high school to get the money, I'm not saying anything. I am just saying when you turn 17, you will have the rights to my money, to my pension, you will receive a steady amount of money from the state, and you will get the flag and my medals after the funeral. You are going to be taken care of by me and the state. Every month, I'll have the police write a check to you, and it will be only for you. Your adopting parents cannot put this money into their account. Therefore, you have to have your own account. _

_Now Micah, I only ask that you be the best you can. I know you've lived a hard life, but I'm asking you one thing, be a protector. Be a protector to those who are weak and those who are unable. Be a rock to those who need one, be the shoulder for friends to cry on, be their comforter. I know that's asking a lot from you now, but I know it is possible…I know you can do this. If you do, you will grow up to be a good man. That's all I want from you, all I ask of you. Even if you fall from the straight and narrow, respect your elderly, care for the children, and help the needy. Be a good man. Grow up to be a respectable man._

_I love you a lot Micah. I love you with all my heart. If my job had minimal risk, I'd have adopted you in a heartbeat, but that wasn't a choice. I couldn't leave the team. They depended on me, and I don't run away from those that depend on me. Maybe I should retire, and if I do, if the time comes and I have the ability to retire, I will. So long as I can leave without hurting the team, I hope you know I would've done that. _

_Time is running out. I have to go now, but believe me when I say I will treat you like a son. I will love you and cherish you and protect you so long as I can. Your father will never hurt you again, I was sure of that. I love you Micah, my son. I will be watching you from above. I will be side by side with your mom, Lily and your brother, Eliot. I will never leave their side, and together, we will all be there to protect you._

_Much love,_

_Mr. Spencer Galloway_

_**P.S. Follow your dreams, never leave a fight, stand to protect those who are unprotected, never turn away from your loved ones, and be sure you make it to heaven.**_

After I read the letter, my heart was broken. It was the final goodbye. I held him tight, and kissed his cheek. I held onto him until he had to be taken by the police force. I wouldn't see him again until the funeral. Yes, the funeral was nice. They paid him proper respects, they made a nice funeral for him, they gave me the flag and his medals, and after the funeral, the police force took me to the judge to get all that was promised me. I didn't care about the money, I didn't care about the support from the state, what I did care about was his personal property. I treasured the photos he had, the clothes he wore, the cologne we wore, I valued the pack of cigarettes that Mr. Spencer hadn't finished and the lighter that was inside the pack, waiting to be used. I cherished the cookbook he had that had his own notes scribbled inside with changes or additions to the recipes, I adored the jewelry he had as his own: his fleur bracelet, his dogtags, his leather necklace, and his silver band ring that had the inscription _life isn't how many breaths you take, but how many moments take your breath away_. I all but idolized his dark brown Stetson cowboy hat that was a special Stetson made in Texas. I respected the thin black leather bound Bible that had his name inscribed on the front. Though I would never set foot in a church if I had my choice, and though I would never pray to God again, I held that Bible near my heart and would find myself reading it every night. The police force also made a little memory box for me that contained some of Spencer's pictures, his badges, a lock of hair, a deck of playing cards he used for Poker, and a few other things that meant a lot to Spencer. There were a few pictures of the two of us together, and seeing those almost tore me apart to a point of no return. I never left that box anywhere. It was always among my personal possessions that I kept with me at all times.

I was allowed to stay two days after the funeral, but once everything was in order, I moved to Kentucky with my new _family_. It was strange, but Spencer wanted to be cremated. They obeyed his wishes but still held the services like normal. I was able to keep some of his remains, and the crew he worked with all paid for a turquoise LifeGem diamond that was turned into a bracelet, and an "Aspen circle of life" necklace that held some of Spencer's ashes. I wrapped the Aspen circle of life to his leather necklace, put it on and never took it off. When I got to Kentucky, I shut down. I played the obedient child, and I treated them with respect, but I didn't go out of my way to make a relationship with them. Why should I? Everyone I made a connection with ended up dead before their time. Just as Mr. Spencer said, Willie came over with his daughter a few times to introduce themselves. I barely spoke to them but I watched them. Her name was Aimee and she seemed very confident in herself, but also had an air about her of love and respect and reverence for her dad. She called him "Papa" which made me smile and he held onto her like she was his angel, even though she was nearly in eighth grade. She didn't seem ashamed that she was close with her father, but maybe that'd change when she started school. I couldn't be sure. My family seemed nice, they did what they had to, but what I noticed was that they were distant from me. It wasn't until I was 15 and they had been titled my parents for a year and a half that I realized they only adopted me so they could earn some extra money. As a foster parent, they earned some extra cash, like about $900 a month or so, but as my legal parents, they earned more. The only reason they earned more was because the adoption agency _and _the government felt that I had mental instability and would need to be sent to a doctor, psychologist, psychiatrist, or a psychiatric hospital. Because of my "instability" my adopting parents received $1500 a month instead of the $900 for fostering me.

After the initial excitement of having a new child around, my new parents (who adopted me in July) ignored me and were happy to know that I didn't need their help nor wanted it. I did sneak into the post office when I first arrived and set up my own P.O. Box without their knowledge so I could get any mail from the police officers without having to go through my parents. There were a few I kept in contact with, Jones being one of them though we didn't talk much. Either way, I was now adopted, my life had a new start, and all my necessities were covered. I was fed and clothed, I had a big comfortable bed, and I had my own sort of independence, all that I wanted in a home, except for one thing; love was absent. Emotionally, I was neglected, but I wasn't too worried and learned to adapt. If they didn't want to love me, I didn't need their love. I spent a lot of time in my room and when they were away, I'd sneak into the kitchen and try out some of the recipes Mr. Spencer made. They didn't taste any good at first, but then after a month I started to get the hang of it. I learned not only by readin' his notes, but also by spendin' a big portion of the summer in front of a television watching several cookin' shows. By the end of July, I had mastered the art of Asparagus with Mustard Vinaigrette and I could also make a mean chicken fried steak. My favorite dish to make was homemade cinnamon rolls that Mr. Spencer apparently loved and adjusted to make it interesting. I made it several ways before I decided that his orange glaze and sprinkled pecans gave it the best taste! Now that the summer was ending, I found a recipe I wanted to try. It was one that Mr. Spencer had written and rewritten with several tips on how to make it the tastiest. I wrote out the ingredients to the Brats, Cabbage and Green Bean Casserole and decided that on the way home after school I'd stop at the local grocery store to buy my needed supplies. I also figured that if I got my own journal sort of notebook, I could make my own list of recipes that I enjoyed cookin'. It was an intriguin' idea and I decided with the money I got for allowance, I'd learn to be the best chief possible.

By the time school had come 'round, I was itchin' to be free. The morning of the first day of school, I snuck out of the house at 2:00 in the morning (I hadn't slept for more than 90 minutes a day since my parents' car wreck. To this day, I have nightmares that forbid me to sleep much longer.) and ran through the backyard without looking back. I ran and kept running until I was stopped by a wire fence. I skidded to a halt and let my breath catch when I saw the magnificent creature. It was a stallion no doubt. He was tall and jet black with black hair that held natural red highlights. His eyes were wide and dark as if he was looking deep into my soul. The only reason I could see him so clearly was because the full moon and the starts were shining brighter than nay city light I'd ever seen or dreamed about. The stallion walked up to the other side of the fence, let his head come towards my outstretched hand and nuzzled me lovingly. He was such a beauty. Before I really thought about it, I stepped even closer to the stallion, and he did the same, closing the gap between us minus the thin fence in between our bodies. He turned to his side slightly and I took a chance…I followed my gut. I gripped his long mane, used the fence as my stirrup and pulled myself over the fence and on top of the black stallion. He took a few steps back and I whispered soothingly to him before he threw his head back and neighed as if he was laughing at me. I decided to follow his lead and leaned my head back and shouted a rejoice and laughed because no one would hear it. The stallion began walking and I held onto his mane as I looked up at the never ending sky. It was almost like I could feel my brother beside me, so I began talkin' to 'im, "Hey Eliot, can you imagine riding a horse like this guy? He's awesome. It's all we've dreamt about and much more. It feels like I'm floating and time has stopped. Like, I feel like he actually understands me. I can't really explain how awesome that feels. I wish ya were here with me, but I kinda guass ya are, huh? Well, I love ya a lot bro. Take care."

I rode on for a while longer before the stallion that I wished to call Shadow, walked up to a tree and started to graze. I turned over on his back, leanin' my head 'gainst his neck and slippin' my arms behind my head to twist his mane in my fingers. I looked up at the stars and realized there was so much I wished to say to my loved ones, and that I'd might as well continue. With a sigh, I began again, "Hey Mr. Spencer…or daddy. I've been workin' on some of your recipes. I supposed the ones that had the most splatters and wipers were your favorites, so I've started on those. I'd have to say they've been a challenge, but I ain't got nothin' better ta do with my free time. I don't blame you or them for that matter. I guess they didn't know what it'd be like to raise a troubled and baggage kid. They take care of me, which is real nice. I mean, I get 3 hot meals a day and a big bed, yeah, my bed is HUGE!" I smiled a moment before continuing, "Yeah, like it's so big and comfy, I could stay in there all day!" I laughed at the thought of sleeping all day, "Even if I ain't sleepin' more than 90 minutes a night, I'd still lay in bed with a good book. Like that book, To Kill a Mockin' Bird, or even such books as Moby Dick and the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I've grown to like reading. I guess I never told you, but after Mama died, Eliot helped me practice my reading. We'd read every night. We'd get several books from the library, and while dad was gone, we'd sit on our beds and read the books and even act them out when we could. I love my books. I'm glad I was able to take them from the house. Gulliver's Travels was always enjoyable as was The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. We never got a chance to read The Arabian Nights, but that is officially on my list along with many more great Classics." I ran a quick hand through my hair to get the strands out of my face before continuing, "Well, enough about books. Ya probably bored by now. I'm gonna start chasin' my dreams. Startin' with this horse. I'll take it slow and think things through before I accomplish each goal, but by the end of it, I'm gonna learn how to be a protector…just like you wanted. I've got so many ideas, I'm gonna hafta right 'em all down, but I can do that. That ain't no problem. Well, guess I'll leave ya alone for now. I'll keep you in my heart though. Thanks for bein' such a positive influence on me. I know who I wanna be like when I grow up. Thanks, daddy."

I looked up at the night sky and was surprised and scared beyond all hell when something gentle touched my hair. I jumped up but because of the sudden move, the stallion got annoyed and bucked me off. He walked around the tree and continued grazing as I was left on my back wondering what the hell just happened. As I started to sit up, I heard a soft giggle with made me sit up and turn quickly to see the perpetrator. What I saw was the beautiful blonde girl who was my said neighbor. "What the hell are ya doin'?" I questioned with annoyance seeping in my voice.

"I could ask ya the same thing. My daddy ain't above getting' out his shot gun to take care o' a trespasser.

"I ain't no trespasser," I rebuttled in quick defense.

"Sure ya ain't. Maybe he'd call ya a thief for tryin' ta take his prized stallion."

"If I was a thief, I would've stolen this beauty of a horse and run off long ago."

-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

That was the first time I had a conversation with Aimee and it sure as hell wasn't the last. We became best of friends and her dad really took me in and taught me everything he knew 'bout horses. The black stallion, whose name was actually Lightning became my buddy and I would ride him all the time on the trails while Aimee rode her favorite mare, Treasure. It was strange because even with us riding a male and female horse, we never bumped into any problems. It was like we were all on our own little dates every time there was a trail ride. That wasn't it though. I learned how to cook more meals and finally, asked Aimee and Willie over to the house for some dinner. I liked to cook, and by the end of the school year, I was making meals for my family almost every night. Andrea, my new mom, always tried to help, but she just got in the way. The kitchen became my calming place, my place where no one could touch me…and I liked it that way.

By the time I was 15, I worked with a local woodsmith and helped him create chairs, tables, pews and anything else that was ordered. There were a few amazing designs, and I learned a lot from him. That and being a football player and wrestler, and working with Willie, who did pay me, I had very little time to cook. I tried though; I made it a point to cook during the weekends. I cooked big meals and put them in the refrigerator so we could reheat throughout the rest of the week. I liked my life. I began checking things off my list of dreams to accomplish. During the summer I turned 16, I got involved in a martial arts program close to where we lived and practiced hard every day. I had to quit working for the woodsmith, but used that time to train during the day, and I enrolled in a night cooking class. It happened that I worked for Willie during the weekends. Yes, to everyone in town, I was known as Eliot, but my adopted parents made it a point that if they were upset with me, they'd call me "Micah Eliot Carter!" Carter was their last name. I hated it. I wanted to be Spencer…Eliot Spencer…but it didn't seem like that would be possible until I moved out of the house seeing as Mr. Spencer didn't adopt me. Oh, as for that money, all the money I got from the Police and Government, I gave 90% of it to the orphanage in town through anonymous donations, and would keep the 10% so I could purchase a motorcycle. It wasn't until I was 17 that I got my first motorcycle, but I did, and that's when I asked Aimee to be my girlfriend. She agreed so long as she drove the motorcycle and I rode the back. I agreed, and made the trip torturous for her by whispering sweet words in her ear and touching her most ticklish spot: her neck. I blew several kisses and watched as the chills began to take over her. There were a few times I had to stretch my arms out to get control of the bike, but it was an enjoyable experience.

It was during that school year that we lost our virginity to each other. It was a special moment, and it was then, midterms, that I gave her a promise ring. I told her I loved her unlike any one I've ever loved before. She returned that feeling. We were on top of one of the large hills, surrounded by trees and growth. We had taken my bike for a picnic and told Willie we'd be home by 8:00pm. We had to call at 7:00pm to tell him we changed our minds and were planning to camp under the stars. He never suspected anything because we were so close as children. We fought, we played, we joked and teased, and we also yelled. He saw us more as siblings but when I asked him for permission to date her, he was surprised but glad to have me as family. As I laid there with her, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her even closer. She'd been playing with my hair, so when I tried to get her closer, she simply pulled herself on top of me and continued her attack on my hair.

"God, Aimee, that feels so good," I moaned out.

"Yeah, I bet it does Eliot. I'm gonna do this until we both fall asleep."

"That won't be that much longer for me. I guarantee that."

By the end of the school year, a lot had happened. I received my 5th degree Black Belt for Kenpo Karate and got my 4th degree Black Belt in Aikido. (It wasn't until I was in special ops that I got my 7th degree Black Belt in Kenpo Karate and my 5th degree Black Belt in Aikido.) Those successes weren't the only achievements I got that year. I got MVP in both football and wrestling and was offered several scholarships to different universities to go play with them. None of those were quite as life changing as my final decision of the year. I had just graduated from high school when I was visited by the US Army. The recruiter asked if I would be interested in joining. He told my parents that if I joined, they could live comfortably and that I could stay for a tour or however long I wanted and then "retire" to continue my own life. It sounded like an adventure, and I knew Aimee would wait for me, so I agreed. I didn't care if my parents lived comfortably or not, I just wanted the adventure…I wanted to cross more things off my list. There were several that were crossed out, a few added and in total had a few remaining: become a "Master Chef," travel the world, make a name for myself, change someone's life, become a millionaire, donate to orphanages, punish those who abuse children, become a connoisseur of French Champagne, own my own ranch and horses, be a horse trainer, and consider being a foster parent. My list was a strange one. I never showed anyone what I wanted to accomplish, not even Aimee. I feared that she'd hate my need to protect and need for something more. I was afraid she'd run away. I never told anyone of this list. I kept it in my wallet as a reminder of all I wished to accomplish and what I had left to mark off.

That summer, I told Aimee I signed up for the army and would be back whenever I could. I told her I loved her and I'd think about her everyday while I was in basic training and while I was stuck in the barracks with a hundred other guys. She was sad, but after one more night together, and that sure was a memorable night, I was gone and in basic training. There were several reasons I couldn't keep in much contact with her, most consisting with the fact that while we were still in basic training in Russia, and we were attacked and were in the middle of several skirmishes. After that was all taken care of, and the officers saw how talented the few survivors were, they immediately threw us into special ops. It wasn't much of our choice, but we were drafted into those positions and we got higher pay…well, my parents got a higher income yet again. I began to resent my _parents_ because they were getting free money off of me since I was fostered by them…and I was tired of it. I told the army to cut that pay in half and give the other half to Willie because he was just as much as family as my parents were. They agreed but I don't think my parents ever noticed the change in their income. I wrote a few letters to Aimee, telling her I was fine, and I received several letters from her. There were a few phone calls exchanged while I completed even more basic training, field training, weapons training and special training. It felt like I was in training all day long, very much like school.

That day I was finally allowed to return, after completing all sorts of training and missions, I got home on a bus, walked several miles because I wanted to surprise Willie and Aimee…but when I got to their home, it was me who was surprised. A wedding was being held, and there were several cars in the front yard. I followed the voices into the back pasture, near the barn where Aimee and I first made love. I felt my stomach twist in knots, and a migraine settled from the base of my neck up to my temples. I took a breath as I watched the bride walk down the aisle…in a beautiful flowing white dress with thin straps and cowboy boots and a cowboy hat placed on her head instead of a veil. I turned to look at the groom and found it to be a guy on the football team that claimed to be my best friend. I watched as the ceremony took place, but what hurt the worse was as Willie handed off his precious angel to Charlie, there was no happiness in his eyes, only a dull blank look. After the ceremony, I walked up to Willie and whispered, "Surprise, I finally made it home." My voice was weak and as Willie turned around, shame was evident. "Eliot, I'm sorry. He asked her two months ago, and she hadn't heard from you in nearly 7 months."

"It was 5 months and two and a half weeks Willie, not 7 months," I replied drily.

"She said it was 7 months."

"She tends to exaggerate the dates. She's always done that."

"I've never really noticed that."

"It don't matter anymore Willie. No stressin' necessary. I bet you'd done a lot of that with the plannin' an all."

"Not so much. I was just sorry it wasn't you boy. I wish you were my son."

"Well, that aint' gonna happen unless ya get another daughter."

"Yeah, I guess no use worrying, huh?"

"Yeah, there ain't no more farmer's daughter for me sir. I'll have to find my way out now."

"At least say goodbye to her."

"I don't know Willie. She seems happy. I'd hate to ruin the atmosphere of the weddin' an all." It was just as I finished speaking that I heard a familiar gasp from behind. She'd seen me, and somehow it'd be my fault she up and married Charlie. I closed my eyes and took in a breath as Willie shook his head and walked off. He knew never to get in the middle of our fights. Though we never touched each other in an argument, it was a sure smart thing to be a pasture's width away from us. "Don't start now Aimee. We ain't gonna have an argument on your weddin' day. Just keep walkin' an' I'll find my way out. I know the path."

"You went silent on me El, don't try to throw this all on me now."

"Aims, I'm not the one that just got married because I was too impatient to wait for a letter."

"It was 7 months, damn it! Seven months Eliot!"

"Like hell it was. It was 5 months, and 2 and half weeks. Not even 6 months Aimee. Don't throw this shit on me today."

"I can and I will Eliot! You're an ass. I waited for the postman every day, I waited by the phone, I waited by the door for an officer to walk up and tell me you'd been killed in action! Do you know what it means to wait for bad news?"

I turned at that and said some things that should never be reiterated. I crossed the line with Aimee, and once you've don't that, she'd never forgive you. I'd seen it happen several times with her friends while we grew up. I knew better than to cross certain lines, but I did it…I crossed the line and I knew I deserved the slap she threw at me. Still, I was trained to kill, to protect myself, and I did just that. I grabbed her hand and twisted her around, holding her in one of the holds she'd never be able to escape from. In her anger, she retaliated. It was the first time we'd gotten physical in a fight. She stomped her heel into my shin and threw her head back into my chest making me stagger a few steps back. Her eyes were as lighting, and my verbal attacks continued. I'd been in the military, I'd seen some horrible things, still, I should've been in control…but I wasn't.

She returned the promise ring which I threw back on the ground by her feet as I replied, "Why should I keep somethin' tainted so well with disrespect and a cheatin' heart?" I turned away as she was responding to that, but I didn't hear the words. I kept walking until I got to my house (which was empty because my parents were at the wedding) and packed my few things and walked out, leaving everything behind. I got on the next bus out of that state, was titled as A-WOL from the military which made them stop the payments and I kept riding until I was completely and utterly lost. I had already pulled all my money out of my bank, and wrote a letter to the police to stop giving me money, and fell off the grid. I got a few fake IDs, and traveled the world, looking for work…looking for something to keep me busy. I was created to kill and to protect, so I did just that. I travelled to Croatia and joined in the war. I killed people, I protected people, and by the end of it, the rebels won and Croatia became a free country, no longer tied down by their old rulers. After that war, I travelled to Myanmar where I wreaked havoc with the General. I used his daughter to get to him and his riches. This is when I claimed the title of Retrieval Specialist, and became a true Hitter. I turned from a National hero to a mercenary with no known morals. I became who I needed to be to make the job a success. It was never seen by those who hired me the breakdown I'd have after each job. After the killing and the fighting, after the retrieving and the cleanup, I felt lower than scum. Still, I made my living away from Kentucky and the United States. It wasn't until I began working for Damien Moreau that I lost all emotion when doing my work. There were many hard things that needed to be done, and Damien looked to me to complete his personal list. I did just that. I did all he needed, got my hands dirty, got my conscience dirty, got my morals tossed to the wayside, but all in all, I learned more in my time with that Devil of a man than I learned in any other work.

Well, I guess I should tell y'all that I got through some of my other goals, I earned my master chef status in 1999 and became a connoisseur of French Champagne, I apparently travelled the world, I made a name for myself, and I changed several people's lives (some for the better and some for the worse). There were still a few I wanted to do, and I suppose I can reiterate them: There were several that were crossed out, a few added and in total had a few remaining: become a millionaire, donate to orphanages, punish those who abuse children, own my own ranch and horses, be a horse trainer, and consider being a foster parent and having my own family. I guess I did punish several people who abused children, but that was an after affect, and not my primary goal. Yes, while I worked with Damien, he allowed me to do a few personal jobs that would make me feel better. He never asked what jobs I did, but some of the jobs I took on were to fix things that Damien made…I tried to fix the effects of the destruction and chaos I caused for him.

-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

I guess I've spoken of everything up until the last few years of my life. I joined this team of dysfunctional people who is known as The Leverage team. They know very little of my personal past, but there are some aspects that they all learned because of jobs that we took on. I've become a better person on this team, and I have crossed off a few other things from my list. I've become _more_ than a millionaire, I've made a difference in the lives of the innocent for the better, and I've been able to take out several people who abuse children. In a sense, I'm doing penance for my crimes and I'm trying to get on the straight and narrow. I can't ever be fully on that road, at least that's how I feel, but it does make me feel better that I am taking out all of these destructive people who harm the innocent.

Now, we're on a job, and this job is about saving children. I am the hitter, the protector; I am the one to make sure everyone gets out ok. I guess my job was accomplished, but in order for that to happen, I have to suffer the consequences. I pushed the last of the children out the door but before I could run out with them, I heard a crack and felt the bullet seep into my lung. I grunted and fell on the floor. I couldn't say anything through my comm., but I heard Nate and Sophie gasp. I tried to reassure them but I couldn't. The man was coming closer, and I was fading in and out of consciousness. I needed to stop him from getting to the door, but I didn't have the strength. I guess my thoughts and my life won't go past this little metal room, and I thought that if I could think out my life, others would hear it, but that's not the case. I can't tell anyone. It's just going to go with the wind. He's at my feet right now, and in a frantic need to stop him, I trip him and make him fall to his face, then I straddle over him and punch him over and over again. My vision blurred but I needed to stop him. I grabbed the gun that had fallen beside him and saw that there were still a few bullets left. I didn't want to shoot, I was just going to pistol whip him, but as I pulled it back, he pushed my wound and before I could think about my reaction, I pulled the trigger and the crack rang loud through the room. I dropped the gun and groaned as I fell off of him. I couldn't breathe. I heard Parker scream my name and I heard Nate and Sophie try to control her, and then I heard Hardison tell her I was still ok and I'd never die…I couldn't die. I tried to laugh, but there was no reason to laugh. I just killed a man…again. I made a promise to God that I'd never kill again…and if I did, He could take my life. I sold my soul, and I lost. I held my wound and tried to focus. I tried to say something, but I couldn't.

After I joined the team, I felt that when the time came for me to die…I'd feel at peace with my new life, but that is not the case. I feel horrible because my last act was murder. If I die here, which I probably will, I will never find peace in the afterlife. The worse part I suppose…is the day that I'll die is the day I was born. June 27. Though I accomplished much that was on my lists, I was never able to adopt, foster, or have my own children. My legacy ends here and now and no one will carry my name. The only ones who will remember me and my good deeds will be my team and when they die, my good deeds will die with them. Become a millionaire—I did that and more, donate to orphanages—I did that, punish those who abuse children—that's my job description, own my own ranch and be a horse trainer—I've done that and currently have a safe place for the horses and I have great trainers when I am not available. The only goal remaining, as I mentioned before, was being a foster parent and having my own family. I never really thought about it, but the idea of having a wife right now…that is such a beautiful thought. I guess too beautiful for a guy like me to have. I suppose I must take that last breath…and with that breath, I'll tell everyone how much I love my team.

I inhaled and spoke into my comm as the intake of breath brought a sharp pain into my body, "Guys-I-don't have much time-" I coughed a bit before regaining control. My throat was dry and I was in need of water. "Y'all were great…the best. Ne'er forget that. Y'all are family. Thanks for bein' my family." I took short breaths between each statement and I could tell they were all listening. I didn't want any of them to see me like this. "Let me go. Save the children. Get them a home."

"Eliot, we'll take you to the hospital. You'll be fine once you get some rest," Nate interrupted.

"Not this time Nate. I got a bullet in my lung. I won't survive this one." I coughed again, this time spitting up blood as I heard the gasps from every member of the team.

"Eliot, you can't die…Hardison just said you can't die. I won't allow it either," Parker's voice came on the comm and I let a slight smile play on my lips. Her voice was a voice of an angel and I knew that'd be something I'd greatly miss…along with her strange personality.

"Yeah man, you still have to beat me up because I trashed your truck. Remember?" Hardison spoke in a ramble. He didn't do well when trouble invaded our plans.

"I'll see y'all on the other side," I responded.

"Don't say that Eliot. We're coming to get you!" This time it was Soph's voice that reprimanded me for considering the idea of leaving them behind.

"I-love-y'all. Be safe." I took one more breath and coughed harshly before I saw a bright light and fell into unconsciousness.

-…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Is this the end…is this what death feels like? I had to be dead. I felt no pain, but I was a little concerned because I still knew of all my sorrows and all my hardships. Heaven wasn't supposed to be full of our earthly memories. Does that mean I didn't make it to heaven? Probably. There was no way I'd make it there with my last act of my life. Still, if that was the case, why was everything so bright? I looked around trying to figure out what was going on but there was no one in sight. I was all alone…only accompanied by the bright white walls and yellow light. This wasn't what I expected…but before I began to investigate the place, I heard a familiar voice…two actually.

"Micah, you can't die yet. There is still a lot you have to do. You can't just stop living. You've got to keep going."

"Eliot, you have the strength. You've made me proud of who you've become. I know you went through a rough patch and were confused about who you were supposed to be, but you found yourself. You found your family. You can't just leave them now."

"Yeah, Micah. You can't just use my name and give up before I'm ready for you to. You have a lot to do. You need to complete your 'happily ever after'.i have great plans for you!"

"Listen to your brother. You aren't done with 'penance' yet…since that's what you're calling it. I however say you're just finally on the right path. Continue the journey my son. You still have a lot of life to live. I know you'll find your way out of this hiccup like you always do. You still haven't experienced all life has to offer. Take my breath and go back out there."

"Take mine too, Micah! I want to see you find that woman of your dreams! I know she's out there somewhere. I've seen her. I think you know who it is too…but you're just too afraid to ask her." The little voice giggled before continuing, "I'll give you a hint. She's blond…and she's a griffter!"

Before I could respond, I felt a tingling sensation flow through my body…almost like electricity and was filled with breath and it felt like I was filled with a new life! I blinked, but this time I couldn't see. There was bright lights shining in my face and I heard several people mumbling and speaking so fast that I almost thought it was another language. I tried blinking again and this time tried to focus on one of the people hovering over me. I heard a gasp and a woman I presumed to be a doctor came up to me and asked me, "What's your name?"

"Micah," I answered a little groggy. "Why?"

She turned without answering and signaled for another person to come over. When the other figure came in to my line of sight, I couldn't hold back the smile. It was Nate. He followed through and saved me.

"Let's try another one. When's your birthday?"

"June 27, 1974."

Nate looked down at me and smiled before turning to the doctor. "He hit his head really hard, I'm sure he's a little confused. He had a brother…and that's his information. His brother died shortly after birth; I believe Andrew is confusing his life with his brother's life."

Sophie and the rest of the group came up near the bed. "Yeah, Andrew Cullen has gone through a lot. You know, the mugging and all. We should try to talk to him to see what he remembers and help him through this rough patch."

The doctor looked at Sophie as she contemplated. Finally she answered, "Well, don't overdo it. He's still not out of the red yet. It was a miracle what happened to him. He should be dead. I don't know what happened, but whatever it was, he needs to get his rest. I'll come in after about fifteen minutes to check up on him more thoroughly. You have that time to speak with him. After that, I need you all to leave."

"Yes ma'am," Nate responded respectfully.

As the doctor and the other nurses left the room, I smiled and tried to sit up, which my body quickly rejected. I igroaned loudly as the pain shot through my entire body. "Wrong move," I mumbled as I let myself settle back onto the hospital bed.

"Right," Hardison quipped back. "At least you knew better than to use your real name. I mean, this is great!"

"Got a confession," I whispered.

Everyone leaned in closer, their eyes intent. I suppose they were just curious, but it was interesting just how focused they were on me. I took a shallow breath before I spoke up. "My real name is Micah, and that was my real birth date."

The looks that were shared around me were mostly confusion but also curiosity. "Tell us about this later," Nate answered as he recovered first from the group. "We have to get your story straight first. What all do you remember?"

"We were on the job. All the kids got out safely, but I got shot in the lung. I tried to stop the guy, I just wanted to knock him out, but he pushed my wound…and I shot him." My words were very matter of fact. I didn't want them to know just how much it hurt. I had a lot of penance to make up for that act. I should have paid with my life, but it looks like I was given yet another chance at life.

"Right, well, we used part of that story. There was a mugging, and you were protecting us because you had the most experience with martial arts and such. Things got out of hand and he shot you. He was coming after us, but you stopped him and as you tripped him, he fell on his gun and shot himself."

Just as Nate finished the explanation, the door opened and a figure walked through the door with several bags of takeout food. "I have everything y'all ordered. Now get this away from me before I drop everything!" The Russian accent was evident, and I could just hear my brother giggling from the back of my head. He knew too much about me…more than I'd wish anyone to know. He was too observant.

"He's awake! He's awake!" Parker chanted to Tara as she grabbed her bag and jumped back onto the couch. At that, Tara threw the remainder of the bags into Hardison's arms and took the few long and graceful strides to get to the bed as quick as she could without running. "Hey stranger, I, uh, didn't think you'd come through so soon."

"Neither heaven nor hell wanted me. I'm an orphan kid," I joked.

"Who would blame them? You'd kick all their butts," Tara quipped back.

"We were just getting him on the hospital story," Nate explained before turning back to me. "Look, Since family is the only ones allowed around during the surgery and first allowed in the room, I am your older brother, Caleb and Parker is your younger sister, Tabitha. Hardison is Parker's boyfriend, Sophie and I are together, and Tara is a friend from out of town."

"Yeah, how long have I been out?"

"Two weeks."

"Really? That's a long time. It felt like a minute that I was unconscious. That's insane."

"Yeah. So, June 27…that's your real birthday?"

"Mmhmm."

"Interesting. That would have been nice to know before. We could have actually planned a birthday party for you while you were still well."

"Job comes first. I wouldn't have it any other way. Saving those children was the best birthday present."

"Good to know."

"You know what would make this life a little better?" I asked as I turned to Tara.

"What is it?"

"Food…and water."

She smiled and turned to get some water from the table. "Here you go, Romeo. As for the food, that'll have to wait until the doc gives a complete checkup."

"How 'bout a kiss? Could I have that?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. Dying makes a person realize what they've been missing…and what they really want in life." Nate and Sophie left my bedside and turned to the food after my comment so that Tara and I could have a short moment. Tara leaned down to me and smiled as her lips lightly brushed my own. Hers were like soft petals and tasted of strawberries. It was a light kiss, and even though I was enjoying it more than I've enjoyed anything since Aimee, I had to turn away. Once I turned away from her, I was able to cough a harsh cough making everyone turn to me in alarm.

After several moments, when I was able to regain control, I shook my head slightly and commented, "I think there's some sort of fluid in my lungs."

"I'll call the doctor in now," Sophie suggested as she got to the door.

"I guess that means I'll see y'all later on tonight then?"

"We'll be back as soon as the Doc lets us back in," Parker piped in. "Actually, I'll never leave!"

"Thanks Parker. Yeah, please send her in. Thanks."

Sophie slipped through the door and came back with the doctor. "He'll be fine everyone. I just need to give him a complete check and then he'll be in ICU for a while longer. You can all wait in the waiting room and I'll send a nurse when he's able to have visitors again. He's in good hands, I promise."

Everyone nodded and turned to me with a smile, "We'll see you after the checkup. Get better so we can celebrate that birthday of yours in a few months."


End file.
